


The New Ref

by rhysiana



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Holster/Bitching Is My True OTP, M/M, Mention of Teeth, dentist!Ransom, meet cute, ref!Holster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Ransom is the on-call emergency dentist at the Falconers' games. Holster is the new ref. Lardo and Shitty are matchmaking busybodies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr to fill a prompt request from @omgericzimmermann for some Holsom fluff, with ref!Holster included for @zombizombi.
> 
> Also, please go admire @omgpieplease's [art of ref!Holster](http://omgpieplease.tumblr.com/post/155919684957/this-is-hella-sketchy-but-well-there-it-is-haha), with links to @halfabreath's original proposal of the idea.

Ransom landed in his seat barely five minutes before the game was supposed to start. Lardo, feet propped up against the glass, sketchbook against her knees, fingertips just peeking out of the sleeves of yet another sweatshirt stolen from Shitty, spared him a glance and a “You’re late” before going back to sketching warm-ups.

“I know, I know. Kid broke off two of her teeth on the playground, right up to the nerve, so I had to do some composites.”

She grimaced. “Ugh.”

“Why do you ask me these things when you know I’m going to talk to you about teeth? I’m a dentist, for fuck’s sake. And we’re here to watch hockey.”

“I’m in it for the butts.”

He grinned as he took in the player stretching on the ice in front of her and then her sketchbook. “Think Shits will like that one?”

“I call it ‘Spread,’” she said loftily.

He choked and was suddenly glad he hadn’t had time to stop by concessions on his way in. “So, uh, where is Shits tonight anyway?”

She waved a hand vaguely, barely missing whacking him in the face with the end of the sleeve. “Up in the office. They needed some documents looked over.”

He recognized that tone. “How long have you guys been here?”

“ _Hours_.”

“Couldn’t get anyone to strip for you?”

“Shut up.” Then she turned to him and smiled slowly.

Ransom was immediately alarmed. “Oh god. What?”

“There is some news you’ll want.”

“Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

“New ref.”

Ransom’s eyebrows went up. “And I’m interested in this… because why? I mean, is he supposed to be good or biased or something else?”

“Tall. He’s supposed to be very tall. You’ll see.”

“Everyone is tall to you.”

She was smacking him with her sleeves when Shitty bounded down the steps and into the seat on Lardo’s other side. “Just made it!”

“Took you long enough,” grumbled Lardo.

“I know, I know. Oh, did you tell him about…?”

“Just did.”

And now they were both grinning at him. Fortunately the game was about to start for real, so he had an excuse to ignore them.

Which worked for all of 30 seconds, because the new ref skated out to center ice and Lardo elbowed him in the side. Hard.

“Ow, dammit!” And then, “Oh.” Because the guy was indeed very tall. Taller than quite a few of the players. Honestly, he looked like he should be playing himself. On defense, no less. Jesus. Dude was built.

“Good thing the team puts us right next to the glass, huh?” Lardo said, doing that annoying wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing she did with Shitty as they tried not to crack up.

“All the better for me to be able to collect their teeth,” Ransom said pointedly. She grimaced.

The game started, Falconers against the Aeros, which meant the game was fast-paced but likely wouldn’t get overly physical, so Ransom settled back to enjoy the game. And enjoy it he did, because the new ref was hilarious.

“Listen, you little shit, don’t think I didn’t see that cross-check! Don’t you argue with me, we both know what it was.” The player opened his mouth to argue and got cut off again. “Push it and see what happens.”

Ten minutes later:

“Hey, you, get off my ice! Get in the box.”

“But he hit me! Just look at my face!”

“Yeah, no kidding, you look like shit.”

“So why doesn’t he have to go in the box?”

“Because you were the one who was stupid enough to wait until I skated over here to hit him back.”

And then an absolute gem of a faceoff:

“You, out of the circle, you jumped the gun.”

“You, too, out.”

“Did you see me drop the puck? I did not drop the puck. Leave.”

“I swear to god, I will eject as many of you from this faceoff as it takes until I end up with two guys who can actually _wait until I drop the goddamn puck_.”

Ransom had never laughed so hard at a hockey game in his life. He loved the new ref. New Ref was a god.

And then one of the Aeros boarded Guy face-first into the glass and Ransom was standing up before they even showed a replay on the Jumbotron. There went his nice, relaxing evening.

He jogged over to the tunnel to wait by the ice. Poots was leaning out from the bench. “Did you see how bad it was, Doc?”

“Not yet, kid, but tell the ref to get me the teeth. You know the drill.”

But there was no need, because Guy was skating over on his own, Marty looking thunderous behind him, and then the ref skated to a neat stop right next to the door and held out a hand. “You the doc?” he asked Ransom.

“Dentist, yeah,” Ransom said, trying not to blink like an idiot. The ref’s eyes were ridiculously blue. On autopilot, he reached out and accepted the teeth—he looked down at his hand—tooth, just one, that wasn’t so bad. “Thanks, bro.” Bro? Where did that come from? “Uh, I mean…”

But the ref just flashed him a bright smile (my, what big, white teeth you have, sir), and said, “No problem, bro. Good luck!”

***

Dealing with Guy didn’t take long; he’d been through the drill often enough at this point in his career, and this was just a straightforward knock-out, hardly even much of a split lip. So Ransom ended up catching the end of the game, and then standing around in the hallway outside the dressing room with Lardo waiting for Shitty to go get his briefcase from the office. (And his tie, and his jacket, and whatever other articles of clothing he’d inevitably managed to shed during the course of a several-hour visit. They’d all learned to live with it.)

They’d been exchanging joking greetings with players as they trickled out, like normal, and honestly, Ransom simply was not prepared for the blond vision that came around the corner just as he looked away from waving goodbye to Snowy. And while it was sometimes hard to recognize people previously only seen in a helmet and a uniform, there was no mistaking those eyes. Or that smile.

“Hey, Doc,” the ref said. “Your guy okay?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s good.” Lardo elbowed him again and he glared at her. She gestured pointedly between the two of them, and he got it. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” He held out his hand. “I’m Justin Oluransi, team dentist. You can just call me Ransom, though, everybody does.”

“Yeah?” the ref said, returning his handshake. Did his grip linger? Too much to hope for, surely.

“Hockey nickname. I played in college.”

And now he could swear the guy was checking him out. Appreciatively. “Cool. Adam Birkholtz. Holster.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ransom allowed himself to smirk slightly. “I really enjoyed your calling style tonight.”

Holster threw back his head and laughed. “What, you mean telling people off? Somebody has to keep all these assholes in line.”

“You can say that again!” said Shitty behind him. “New Guy! Brah. Nice to meet ya! Shitty Knight.” He held out a fist, which Holster bumped, looking distinctly bemused.

“Shitty?”

“He won’t tell anyone his real name,” Lardo said, texting someone, probably Jack to tell him to hurry up. “’Cept me, o’ course.”

“Is Jack still not out?” Shitty asked. “God, he’s so slow. That’s it, I’m goin’ in!” he yelled as he barged through the dressing room door.

Lardo rolled her eyes and stayed where she was, leaning against the wall. “He’s gonna take forever.” She looked at the two of them. Ransom recognized that look. She was scheming. That was a scheming look. “We were going to get drinks after,” she said to Holster, “but why don’t you two go ahead without us? I’m sure Ransom can take you somewhere good. Maybe somewhere you won’t have to run into lots of players…” she added suggestively.

“Oh, sure, me being the ref and all,” Holster said.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” she confirmed in a tone that said the exact opposite.

“Subtle, Lards,” Ransom commented acerbically.

“I’ve been dealing with you boys for years. Subtlety doesn’t work on you.”

Ransom gave in and turned to Holster. “What do you say, bro, drinks?”

Holster just grinned. “Hell, yes.”

As they exited into the parking lot, Holster bumped shoulders with Ransom. “And since I’m told subtlety doesn’t work, I figure I should clarify that I’m going to count this as our first date.”

Ransom halted for a second, but then got his feet back in gear, a matching grin now on his own face. “Fuckin’ ’swawesome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ft. my own elementary school teeth emergency to delay Ransom’s arrival at the game and my actual dentist as the inspiration for Ransom's AU profession. (They pay him in tickets. He also sponsors a "Tooth-Rattling Check of the Game" highlight for local TV broadcasts, which of course I assume Ransom totally does. Holster thinks this is hilarious.)
> 
> Thanks to M for providing the voice of ref!Holster. (“What would a tall, loud guy who hates 90% of the world be like as a ref? You know, you. As a ref. How would you call a game?”)


End file.
